A Spin of the Clock
by M.V.Avery
Summary: Harry had always been self-sacrificing and selfless, he was entitled to some selfishness, at least that's what she used to think. Whatever it was he had done, well, if she ever got back home there would be hell to pay. SB/HG.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I was just attacked by a vicious plot bunny.

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE:<strong> Of Depression, Desperation and Dark Arts

_Late August 1998  
><em>

The war was over and all was well.

Except for that teeny tiny little detail that it wasn't. Not even close.

Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age and newly renowned war heroine, was living proof of that. And Harry Potter was at his wits end. He had watched one of his best friends, the person who had given her all just for him, the person who had continuously kept him safe from harm during times of danger, sink deeper and deeper into depression. It hurt him to see her like that, it hurt to see her once bright and bossy eyes look so lifeless and dull. She was one of the toughest people he knew, he had watched her get tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and still come out of it alive and sane, had watched her duel Death Eaters years her senior and still thwart them like flies, only to see her get defeated by the aftermath of it all.

It certainly didn't help that Ron was being a prat, nor did it help that her parents refused to speak to her for obliviating them. He wondered if her parents knew what would have happened to them, had she let them be. He doubted it. He just wished they would talk to her, in his eyes she had nothing to be sorry for, he probably would have done the same in her situation.

The press didn't make it much easier either. Did they ever? The poor girl couldn't take one step outside of her door without getting accosted by reporters, wanting her side of the story. Be it the break-up between her and Ron, or the war. These days he was sure they were actually more interested in the break-up, which did nothing for her sadness.

It was supposed to be over. It was supposed to be fantastic to be able to live without fear, to be able to do whatever they wanted, instead everything began to fall apart. It scared Harry a lot more than he was willing to admit. Also, no one else seemed to notice. Ron was focused on his newfound relationship with Lavender, and was much too blinded by his, in Harry's opinion, temporary "love" for the desperate girl, in an attempt to forget his sorrow. It would probably take years before the entire Weasley family got over the loss of Fred Weasley, if ever.

Harry too, grieved for him, as he did for numerous others, who had fallen in battle._ Mum and Dad_. _Remus. Tonks. Mad-Eye. Fred_. _Sirius_. That last one made him choke back tears,_ like it always did._ Somehow Harry knew he wouldn't ever be able to think about his Godfather, without being on the verge of having a breakdown. He never got over his death, and never would. In a way it hurt more than the death of his parents, but he guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't really get to know them. Sirius on the other hand, he got a taste of what things could have been like, to be a real family, only to have him brutally ripped away. And it was his fault, and no matter how much everyone else said otherwise, Harry knew he was the cause of it.

Things were tough, he could agree to that, but the way Ron went about it all, well, it royally pissed off Harry. In Harry's imaginative little world they were meant to be together, Ron and Hermione that is. That way they would always be bound together, as Harry had just proposed to Ginny, who readily accepted. But Ron just had to go and ruin it all by his stupidity and impatience.

Hermione had been happy with Ron, more than happy in fact, but he was moving too fast for Hermione. He had been talking of marriage and children before either had a stable job and place to live. It was different with Harry and Ginny though, as they were on the same page so to speak. Hermione on the other hand, was much too independent to give up that much, yet, which was something Ron couldn't comprehend. To be fair, Harry knew Ron needed to get his mind off of things, as he still grieved the loss of a loved one, and so he tried to busy himself by making a family on his own.

Harry couldn't really blame him, but he could certainly still be mad at his tactless and somewhat shameless relationship with Lavender Brown. It wasn't that he disliked Lavender, but he knew history was bound to repeat itself between the two.

He remembered when it happened. When it had ended. Hermione and Ron had argued so bad one night that they had temporarily split up, or at least that was what Hermione thought. The following day pictures of Ron and Lavender were splattered across the front page of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Harry was livid, but it was nothing compared to the fury of Hermione Granger. She had hexed him so bad he ended up at St. Mungo's, but not before informing him that should he ever so much as breathe in her direction again, she wouldn't hesitate to make some of her temporary hexes permanent. Harry winched at the thought. If anything, Hermione had always had certain creativity about her. 'Poor' Lavender still had an obscene amount of hair in unusual places. Harry had certainly laughed at that.

He missed that spark in her, as it had been the last time he had seen that side of her. Afterwards she fell into a deep depression, the final push had been the news of her parents, and their disregard for her. It crushed her, and Harry wasn't sure how to make it better. He hated himself for being unable to do anything at all. He could destroy Lord Voldemort, the most evil man to ever exist in Wizarding History, but console his best friend? If it weren't so damn depressing, he would laugh at the hilarity.

He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his unkempt locks in frustration. He had been going at it for the last six hours. He too was beginning to feel the stress of it all, and it really didn't help that Ginny sided with her brother, which, to him, didn't make any sense at all. He guessed it had something to do with the recent death of Fred, that made her all the more protective of her remaining brothers, but he wouldn't pretend to understand the workings of the female mind. Also, he had a slight suspicion that Ginny still felt threatened by Hermione and his relationship, no matter how many times he had told her they were friends, _best friends_.

He sighed deeply once more, and slammed shut the heavy tome that was resting in his lap. He wondered why he ever thought that looking for the answer to this mess in a book, of all places, was a good idea. He really had spent way too much time around Hermione lately, and she would most certainly be grinning like a madman, if she knew she had rubbed off on him. Or at least she would have, had she been in a normal state of mind. Now she would probably just give him a small smile and shake her head at his actions

He didn't even know what he was looking for, which made it all the more difficult. _Obviously_, he thought. He stood from the comfortable, but extremely worn, chair to look for the place of the book, he had previously been reading through. Still nothing. He wondered why he kept looking at all, but something told him he had to do it. It was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that urged him to keep reading through the old and heavy tomes, located in the Black library at Grimmauld place. It was an odd pull, it didn't feel completely natural, which should have stopped him right there, but being Harry Potter, the boy, no man, who had always had a certain disregard for rules and dangerous situations, well, needless to say, he kept going. Kept looking for something he had no idea of. But that same little feeling in the back of his mind also told him, it would be helpful; that it would provide him the answer he sought.

But answer to what exactly? How to get Hermione and Ron back together? How to make Hermione smile again? How to bring back everyone who shouldn't have died? What? He knew that last one wasn't possible, but a man could dream.

He groaned and put the book back in place, squeezing it in between two identical brown tomes. His hands fell to his sides in a tired manner, and wished he could go straight to bed, but the idiot that he was, had promised to meet Ginny for dinner. Something about a new restaurant, if he remembered correctly. He loved her dearly, but today just wasn't good for him, and he knew with certainty that he would get a howler, should he decide to cancel.

He trudged gloomily towards the hall, intent on having a shower before going anywhere. When he finally made it to the stairs, he could hear a row of knocks on the front door. He paused momentarily, not really wanting to answer it, but decided against it at the last minute and turned on his heel to make his way towards the door. It could be important after all.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Either he had been cooped up in the library for far longer than he thought, or else Ginny had other plans than going to a restaurant.

"Am I... Am I late or something?" Harry tested the waters, very uncertain at his current predicament. Ginny merely looked amused at him and his dishevelled appearance, glasses slightly askew as he hadn't bothered to put them back into place and raven hair messier than ever.

"No, I just wanted to surprise you. I had the feeling you wanted to stay in today, so I brought the food to you, Mum made it." She said, while she held up a bag filled with several different dishes, judging by the looks and smell of it, and had a bag of clothes in the other hand. She smiled at his wondrous gaze and took a step forward.

"So, are you going to invite me in or what?" She asked, more than ready to unload her bags of food and clothes.

"Yes, yes of course. Let me take one of those bags." He said, moving so she could walk in, while taking the bag of food. Of course he would go for the bag filled with food. He was male after all, and in dire need of sustenance, after six hours looking through books he never would have read in the first place, had it not been for that stupid nagging feeling.

"Good to know you're catching up Potter." Ginny mocked, but didn't fail to smile at Harry's awkwardness.

"Very funny, Weasley." He said as he pinched her side, she shrieked a bit and looked ready to ponce on him, were it not for the bags.

"Just wait until later, I tell you." She presented him with that mischievous little smile that he loved - he knew it was a promise of payback, although he didn't mind at all, it always ended up in his favour.

"So, how long are you staying?" He nodded in the direction of her bag of clothes.

"For the weekend, Mum wouldn't let me stay any longer, school starts Tuesday next week, you know. So I thought we would make the most of this weekend." She shrugged, not entirely happy about going back to school without Harry, but she still had one year left, whereas Harry, Ron and Hermione had opted not to, even though they did get the offer of completing their final year. Surprisingly, Hermione had declined, when she got an offer from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures she couldn't refuse. Ron had decided to help out George in the shop for an infinite period of time, while Harry had an early admission to the Auror Department. Who cared if they hadn't completed their education? They took down Voldemort, and that itself more than warranted some perks and advantages.

Ginny on the other hand wasn't so lucky. So she had to go back and complete her seventh and final year, although rather reluctantly by the looks of it.

"Alright, then we will just have to make the most of it." He smiled, took her hand and led her towards the stairs.

"Wait a minute, aren't we going to eat in the kitchen?" She asked a bit confused by their direction.

"You agreed on making the most of it, so, food can definitely wait." He said with a devious smirk. He watched how a deep red blush spread across her cheeks, and he almost laughed at her expression. Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn't that.

"Harry Potter!" She managed to get out without spluttering too much, and Harry didn't stay around to hear the rest of it, as he bolted up the stairs, having dropped the bag of food on the bottom stairs in his haste. It didn't take her long to sprint after him, her own bag thrown carelessly in the hallway.

The food lay forgotten on the staircase, and the squeals of laughter coming from Harry's bedroom were soon followed by something else entirely.

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><p>Exactly one week later Harry Potter was on the verge of going insane. That stupid little feeling, nagging and all, had turned into a pushy little voice instead. And for all his worth, Harry couldn't even begin to understand why. Surprisingly it didn't really creep him out, like it had back in second year, when he had heard voices, which really just turned out to be a giant basilisk slithering through the school, no, instead it annoyed him to no end. Had he told anyone, they would have sent him to St. Mungo's, and he had no interest in being locked up in a room next to Gilderoy Lockhart. He could almost see the headlines. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Finally Going Insane. Or something like that. Yes, the press would have a field day.<p>

That stupid little voice kept pushing him, kept telling him to get his arse back to the library. It hardly let him sleep these days, and it got to the point where he had to take days off from work, when he couldn't concentrate and continuously made mistakes. He would be lucky if he had a job left, should this madness continue. Honestly, couldn't he have one moment of peace?

So he stayed cooped up in the confines of his library, desperately searching for something he couldn't label.

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><p>It was thirteen days later when Harry finally found what he was looking for. Vivid letters in gold stared up at him, and he marvelled at the black cover, he admired the golden phoenix born from an equally golden flame. Golden ink spun intricate little patterns across the dark leathery surface, and from what he could tell from the crusty yellowed pages, it was very old. <em>This was it<em>. He could feel it with every fibre of his being. He had found it at last.

_Flames of the Phoenix._

Now, what to do with it?

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><p>"Hermione." Her attention was on him the second he spoke.<p>

"Yes, Harry?" Brown eyes looked inquiringly at him, and urged him to continue.

"If you had the means to change it all, would you?" He looked serious, tired but serious. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and knew something was bothering him. She knew he wasn't sleeping well, if he slept at all these days. Of course she had heard the whispers of the great Harry Potter taking weeks of from work. She knew something was wrong the minute he barged in unannounced through her fireplace, she knew because she knew him, probably better than most.

"Change what exactly?" Her eyes narrowed, and she had the sudden feeling that something was very, _very_ wrong. Harry had a tendency to act before thinking, a fact she had come to know over the years. It wasn't just Ron who was prone to idiocy, Harry was too, but he usually just pulled it off anyway, through sheer dumb luck.

"I don't know… Everything. Anything. The war? I don't even know what I am asking." He sighed in frustration, a habit as of late. He let his head fall into his hands, and combed his fingers through his hair before looking up at her again. Eyes tired and weary.

"Whatever it is you are doing, stop it. Time is not to be messed around with, and you know it." She said in a stern voice, but her eyes softened, when she really took in his dishevelled appearance.

"It wasn't like that. I just… I don't know. I keep thinking something isn't right. Do you ever get that feeling? Never mind, I just meant, if you had the chance to, would you? I mean, change it all?" He rambled, but somehow she understood what it was he tried to convey. Just like she always did.

"I get it you know. This isn't exactly the way I planned on celebrating our freedom. All alone with Crookshanks in a tiny apartment. I turn nineteen tomorrow and all I have left is you and my cat… I would lie if I said I hadn't thought about changing it all. Change it all for the better. Make sure Voldemort didn't hurt everyone we cared about." She had spent a lot of time thinking of how different it all could be, _could have been,_ had Voldemort been stopped sooner rather than later. But it was all wishful thinking; nothing could ever undo what had already been done. She had intimate knowledge of the concept of time, a subject she had torn apart in her research, and it just wasn't possible. It wasn't that she hated where she was now, she loved Harry more than anything, and he was her brother in everything but blood, but she was tired beyond belief. Burned out from being on the run for a year, tired of fighting, and sick of everyone, except for Harry. And Crookshanks of course.

"Me too..." Harry muttered weakly.

"Harry, what is happening to you lately? I know something is wrong, even Ginny wrote to me out of concern." She asked, eyes brimming with concern for her best friend.

"She did?" He perked up at the mention of Ginny, but looked more surprised than anything.

"Yes, and don't try to change the subject." She reprimanded, her tone harder than intended.

"Sorry, I was just surprised. Especially after your row last month." He ran a shaky hand through his locks, and looked down at his cup of tea. "Hermione… I really don't know what's wrong, it's just... Lately, I have been…" He stopped, catching himself before he revealed too much. His conscience shouldn't act up now, he just needed to know. Nothing more. And she would stop him, if she knew what he planned to do. He probably would have stopped him too, had he thought rationally about it. But when had Harry Potter ever thought things through before taking a leap into the unknown?

"Yes?" She eyed him uncertainly, not really knowing what to expect. Harry was… Harry was unpredictable at best.

"I have just been so concerned about you and Ron. I feel as if everything is falling apart." And he did feel that, only now he had a solution. She didn't need to know that, yet. She would figure it out soon enough. When it was done, that is.

"Oh Harry..." He could see she was starting to tear up. Yes Harry, way to go, guilt-trip the poor girl into thinking she was one of the reasons for his obvious fragile state of mind, just what she needs, but a bloody brilliant diversion. He had to congratulate himself on his performance, only he wasn't really proud of it.

"No Hermione. Let me finish. I have been thinking a lot lately. And you know what?" When she shook her head, he continued. "I have come to realize, that it's all wrong. I always thought you and Ron would end up together, you know? I deluded myself into thinking it was right, that it was meant to be. Only it isn't. I don't think you would have ever been truly happy with him. Content maybe. But never truly happy. He wasn't, isn't, right for you. And I am sorry for pushing for your reconciliation. Truly I am." He paused, his head hanging with the weight of it all. She would hate him for what he was about to do, but he knew without a doubt that she was the only one who could pull it off. In time she would hopefully forgive him. He really hoped so.

"We both know Ron has a tendency to bail when things get rough, but if he can't stick around at your worst, then he doesn't deserve you at your best. I'm not about to take sides in this, you and Ron will always mean the world to me, but that doesn't mean I can't give him hell for acting like a prat." Harry finished, looking her directly in the eyes.

"Oh Harry, when did you so wise? But you are right, if he can't accept me for who I am, then we just aren't meant to be. I should have seen this coming from a mile away. I know how he is. If I had, then we wouldn't be like this. Split up and on bad terms. It's all wrong." She reassured him, that he wasn't the only one feeling this way. She stood up, the noise from the chair scraping along the wooden floor, loud and distracting, and walked over to where Harry was sitting.

"You know, sometimes I wish we were back in first year again. Even if things were bull back then. But at least we had each other." Harry said, as he pulled Hermione onto his lap. Her arms went around him and she hugged him tightly, afraid he would disappear along with everyone else.

"Same here." She mumbled into the crook of his neck.

"And Ron was as much of prat as he is now, if not more." Harry cracked a smile at her, attempting to lift the gloomy mood.

"When haven't you known him to be a prat?" She lifted an inquiring eyebrow at him, daring him to object or disagree.

"I concede. I haven't." He grinned. And truly, he hadn't. Ron had always had the emotional range of a teaspoon, much to everyone's chagrin and annoyance. They looked at each other and couldn't hold back the laughter, Ron never failed to be a source of amusement to the two only non-Weasleys, and Harry couldn't count the times they had secretly laughed at the redhead's crazy antics or just downright moronic behaviour. He would miss her, or perhaps not. Who knew how this idea of his would turn out. He tried not to think about his questionable plans, when he had a laughing Hermione in his lap. He had missed seeing her laugh like this, it suited her far more than that glum facade she put up every day.

"Precisely." She smiled, and her laughter subsided as she got up from Harry's lap. Harry too rose from his seat, he had to get going before he regretted his decision, and the longer time he spent in her company, the harder it would be for him to go through with it.

"I think I'll get going now." Harry said, while moving towards the fireplace. Hermione followed right behind him, obviously to see him off and offer her goodbyes.

"See you tomorrow?" She counted on seeing him, but by the time she was waking up tomorrow, he had the feeling she would rather hex him six ways from Sunday, than spending her birthday with him. Good thing he wouldn't be there to bear the brunt of her anger.

"Of course." He lied, and somehow he got the feeling that she suspected something amiss. Luckily, for him, she seemed to disregard her suspicions as nothing more than wariness and extreme caution. Undoubtedly paranoid instincts remaining from the war.

"Good, and try and get some sleep, Harry." She scolded, and he understood she meant well. He shrugged before grabbing some floo powder from a clay pot next to the fireplace.

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything. Goodbye Hermione. Love you." He said, before calling out Grimmauld Place.

"Love you too, Harry." She said, but he was already gone.

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><p>Harry wasn't stupid. He was a rash and reckless person, character traits many had come to associate him with, well, at least those who knew him well. To others he was simply the wizarding world's saviour, the Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived, and someone who never did anything wrong. But this decision he was about to make involved more than his own well-being, and it could potentially turn out to be the biggest mistake of all times. But he had to try - because there was a chance everything would end up like it should have been from the start, in Harry's opinion at least. It was a risk he needed to take. Even with such dire consequences as he was currently facing, should it turn out to be a mistake.<p>

He did it for Hermione, for his parents, for Fred, for Remus and Tonks, for everyone who died and everyone who lived, he did it for Sirius. Again he could feel a surge of discomfort at the thought of his Godfather.

But most of all he did it for himself.

Harry had decided to be selfish for once in his life.

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><p>Hermione had the feeling Harry was about to do something stupid and reckless again, something years of friendship with said friend had taught her to decipher. She could always tell when he was about to throw himself into harm's way, but this time was different. The way he had regarded her, like she was a fragile little porcelain doll, about to break at the slightest fall, it didn't sit well with her at all. She knew she had been depressed lately, and who wouldn't have been in her situation? She was entitled to wallow in self-pity like everyone else, honestly, why did she have to act like Wonder Woman, when she was human like everybody else?<p>

Harry was concerned, she knew, but she wasn't about to commit suicide. She just needed some time to think and figure out things on her own, now that there wasn't a war looming over them anymore. Sure, there were still Death Eaters on the loose, but she had taken precautions. She was Hermione Granger after all. Safety before all else. Even if all else failed, logic never seemed to.

She knew she was a mess, but she had a lot to think about. Her new job for example. She wasn't even sure it was something she wanted to do, but it had so much potential. She had considered joining Harry in his Auror training, but decided against it, figuring she had had her share of danger and adventure. Then there was the option of becoming a Healer, she didn't know why, but it appealed greatly to her. But right now, she felt more like she was wasting away her youth, wasting her life on trivial matters and abandoned by her family and Ron. It wasn't fair, which shouldn't really surprise her. She had learned from an early age that life wasn't fair, so why should it be any different now?

Despite everything, what worried her most was Harry's behavior. It made her uneasy just thinking about it. When he had said goodbye to her, it felt as if his words had another meaning behind them. She would have a nice long talk with him tomorrow on her birthday, then she could always guilt trip him into confessing, otherwise she feared the outcome.

She looked at herself in the mirror at her bathroom. Looked at the pitiful reflection that met her eyes. She hated her hair, why couldn't it be normal and less frizzy? No matter how much conditioner she used, no matter what label, it never seemed to work. She cursed her father for passing on the untamable Granger hair to her, why couldn't she have inherited her mother's sleek dark brown hair? Again, because life isn't fair. She stared at her big brown eyes, and wondered when exactly they had lost their fiery spark she used to love. That was one thing she had always been proud of. Her eyes. They mirrored her passionate personality, but she supposed it was obvious the spark would be gone now, and replaced by dull emotionless orbs. She had temporarily lost her ardent spirit. Once she had healed emotionally, it would come back.

She hated her lanky figure, but after the war she had trouble gaining weight again, not that she had weighed much before, but it would be nice to actually have some curves. Like Lavender. She had to stop this line of thought; it wouldn't do to compare herself to others. While some had beauty, she had the brains. Not that she was unattractive, she was just plain. Plain Jane. She ran her hands through her hair, to have a better look at her face, but tangles and knots instantly met her hands. Her face was pretty enough she supposed, if not a bit thin, heart shaped and with a pretty little mouth. She sighed. She would never be one of those tall gorgeous girls from the magazines, and she had come to accept that.

She walked into her bedroom and headed for her white dresser, a silver framed mirror hanging above it, and a few books thrown carelessly on the top of the dresser. She rummaged through the top drawer and found her nightgown. A simple plain white cotton gown with spaghetti strops that went to mid-thigh. She threw her clothes on a plush chair beside the dresser and pulled on her nightgown, again observing her appearance in a mirror. No, she wasn't unattractive; she was pretty, but not beautiful. She had never been vain, but lately she found herself wishing for a bit more.

She trudged gloomily towards her big plushy bed, intent on getting a good night's sleep. She pulled her covers up to her chin. Tomorrow would be better; tomorrow she would pull herself together, for Harry's sake at the very least.

It was funny, how she always thought of Harry like a brother, but in reality she had always been more of a substitute mother. Both Ron and Harry had always nagged her about mothering them too much, but it was who she was. The responsible one, who always had the answers and followed the rules, mostly. She was wise beyond her years, but she was tired of being the 'grown-up'.

During the war she had protected her boys, and she missed feeling safe herself. Ron could never give her that, could never make her feel protected and safe. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow would be better for sure.

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><p>AN: This is my first fanfiction. Sorry for any mistakes, but English is my third language, and I don't have a beta. I hope you liked it anyway, though.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: A Dad, a Sister and a Mother

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the blot bunny simply continues to harass me.

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><p>CHAPTER ONE: A Dad, a Sister and a Mother<p>

_September 19th, 1970._

She had a splitting headache, and she honestly couldn't remember the last time she had felt anything remotely like it. Fantastic way to celebrate your nineteenth birthday, she really had to congratulate herself on her good luck. She moaned irritated and brought a hand to her head, eyes still refusing to open at the fear of the late September sun.

There was sign number one that something was wrong. Her hair. It was still long, and it was definitely still curly, but the texture felt different. It felt wrong. It felt soft and controlled, something her hair had never been, unless she used tons of hair products in order to tame her wild mane. Now it simply felt soft, her curls no longer a mess of tangles and knots, but instead soft ringlets. There was no frigging way that happened overnight. It wasn't possible. She suspected foul play.

She shot up like a rocket, when she had agreed with herself on the fact that there really was something wrong. Her headache didn't appreciate that course of action. Then came sign number two, her room. Or rather the fact that this wasn't her bedroom, in fact she had never seen this place before. Granted, it was a beautiful room.

She found herself sitting in a big antique canopy bed, made in dark wood and with a closed ceiling, which adorned the middle of the room. The sheets, she noted, were white and had a pattern of pale pink roses, and the curtains attached to the bed were white as well, although there was no sign of any roses on them. By the window stood an old desk, made in the same material as the bed, she could see several items scattered across the desk, books lay unevenly stapled in two columns and pens were thrown on top of a bunch of blank sheets of paper, and she could spot some hairpins as well.

A beautiful wardrobe stood directly across from the bed, it matched both the desk and bed, and she could make out the intricate patterns on the old furniture. Absolutely beautiful. What surprised her, and seemed slightly out of place, was the tiny table beside the wardrobe; it had a huge dollhouse on top of it. Had she been a few years younger, she probably would have squealed with joy. But this wasn't her bedroom in her flat in London. So where in Merlin's name was she, and how did she get here? She felt a bout of fear and anxiety well up, and she tore the sheets from her body and hopped out of bed, like it had caught on fire.

Then came sign number three. Why the bloody hell was everything so big? She felt tiny compared to the furniture in the bedroom, and that's when she had a good look at herself in the golden-framed mirror above the dresser, which stood on the other side of the wardrobe.

She had shrunk! Or de-aged!

She couldn't possibly be more than ten or eleven. She still had baby-fat for Merlin's sake! Even her breasts were gone!

Oh dear.

What the hell was going on?

She took a good look in the mirror, too stunned to do anything else. The image that met her was nothing like the one she had observed before going to bed yesterday. And true enough, as she had felt rather than seen before, her hair was no longer frizzy and unmanageable. Of course she had bed-hair, but it was _normal_ bed-hair! Her hair looked much healthier than it ever had before, beautiful brown ringlets framing her face. Her eyes were still very much the same, a fact she was glad of. Some familiarity was nice.

But her body. She was back to having no breasts and no figure, not that she much before, but still. This was beyond crazy! This had to be a dream, a nightmare! She pinched herself only to hiss in pain. Okay, so that obviously wasn't going to work. She was fretting, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror, trying to figure out this mess.

Then she could hear the soft click of her door opening, her head snapped towards the door in a heartbeat. A little girl, who couldn't be older than six or seven years of age, quietly peeked in, seemingly too timid to open the door fully and barge in, like most others her age would have done without a second thought.

"Hermione! You're up already? Mother asked me to tell you breakfast is served. And happy birthday." The mousy girl said confused, brows scrunched up in confusion at seeing Hermione up.

"Who the hell are you?" Hermione snapped, angry and confused. Were they keeping her prisoner? And what the hell had they done to her body? She could see the little girl's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment she felt bad about snapping at her.

"Hermione, it's me, Hermia, your little sister." She looked visibly hurt, and a great deal confused by Hermione's words. _Little sister? What the hell?_ As far as Hermione knew, she was an only child.

Hermione looked gobsmacked at the little girl, expecting Harry or perhaps even Ron to jump out of the wardrobe, or pop up somewhere, screaming 'Got you!'. But this was a bit of cruel joke, even for them. Heck, this was beyond the great Weasley Twin pranksters. Then it came to her. Harry.

What. Did. He. Do?

On second thought. Harry wouldn't do this to her, he had more sense than that.

Didn't he?

"Hermione?" Apparently Hermione had zoned out, worrying the little girl, _Hermia_ her brain reminded her, standing before her. How to deal with this… whatever the hell this was?

"Sorry. I'm still a bit dazed, I had a bad dream, that's all." For now she would play along, see what happened once she met the 'mother' Hermia was talking about. She tried to look sorry, forlorn even. Hermia bought it.

Hook, line and sinker. What a naive little girl. To be fair most children were. Ah, she remembered the days of ignorance. It really was bliss.

"Oh. Okay, are you alright?" She asked concerned, and notable relieved by her explanation, although she could still detect a faint trace of suspicion. Not completely naive, then. Good to know.

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute." Hermione said carefully, not trusting her voice not to falter or snap.

"Okay then. Do you want me to wait for you?" She asked politely, a smile adorning her face. She was quite pretty now that she got a good look at her, curly brown hair, a heart shaped face, and beautiful green eyes. It was clear this girl would grow up to be a beauty.

"I will just come now instead." Hermione gave her a tight-lipped smile. It would prove much easier to just follow the girl, as Hermione had no idea where she was and how to get to the kitchen, if that was where they were going. Not that it would be that hard to find, but she had no plans of stumbling through an unknown house.

She moved towards the door and thereby Hermia, when the little girl interrupted her.

"Aren't you going to wear your robe? Mother will have a fit if you show up in your nightgown, even if it is your birthday." She frowned, and Hermione looked down at her body, true she was wearing a childish, but quite elegant, rose patterned nightgown that fell just below her knees. It had long sleeves and was quite comfortable, she noted. And what was with the flower theme? Hermia as well, was wearing something similar beneath her pale purple silk robe, but whereas Hermia's clothes were held in white and pale purple colours, Hermione's was white and pale pink.

How girly could it get? She thanked Merlin she wasn't dressed in pink. Pale pink she could live with, but pink? When she was a little girl, her parents hadn't cared much for the girly colours, and had opted for neutral colours instead. They had always been sensible people.

"Oh, right." Hermione spotted a similar silk robe on the coat hanger beside the door, and reached for it. She found a pair of fluffy slippers as well, when she looked to the floor. How convenient.

"All set?" Hermione nodded and followed Hermia out the door.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Good morning, Princess. Happy birthday." A middle-aged man came up from behind her, leaned down and kissed the top of her curly head and then proceeded towards the end of the dining table, newspaper in hand. Hermione tensed the moment he touched her, even if it was only a fleeting brush of his lips on the top of her head.

She had followed Hermia into the dining room downstairs, as her bedroom was located on the first floor, and she had been mighty surprised by the decor of the house. She currently found herself in a well off, slightly upper class, house. When they had descended the stairs and arrived in a huge foyer, Hermione had been flabbergasted, and she barely had the time to take it all in, before she was led through a swinging door in the wall under the staircase. Then Hermia had silently dragged her down a small hallway leading to the dining room, a long table stood in the middle of the room, and at the far end of it breakfast was lined up. It she hadn't been so caught up in the absurdity of it all, she might actually have taken a few moments to admire the house properly.

"Good morning." She mumbled, still trying to assess the situation. So far she had seen no sign of scheming Death Eaters, heck, these people didn't even seem to hold her prisoner, if anything they treated her like a precious family member. Hermione sat down next to her 'father', who sat at the end of the table, happily humming an unknown tune, whilst browsing through the sports section.

"So, Princess, how are you this fine morning?" He asked, looking at her over his newspaper. He looked kind, a warm man who reminded her of her own father, the brown curls did nothing to end the similarities, only his seemed more manageable and less frizzy. Just like hers. She noted he had dimples, which only added to his charm, and his eyes were a beautiful dark shade of green, the same as Hermia's, and it was clear she had inherited them from him.

"Just fine." She replied in a clipped tone, but couldn't help giving him a small smile, his own was quite infectious.

"Are you alright, Princess? You seem a little tense." He asked, brown eyes brimming with concern. "It's not every day you turn eleven. You are a big girl now." Hermione stared at him, like he had grown a second head. Eleven? Was he fucking kidding her?

"Stop babying her, Edmund. Hermia sit up straight, it's unbecoming of a young lady to slouch." A stern, but beautiful, looking woman said, and Hermione's head snapped up so fast, she heard her neck make a nasty cracking sound. She winced.

The woman had long, sleek looking blonde hair that reached mid back, her body clad in a pale green silk gown, not unlike Hermione and Hermia's. This family seemed to coordinate clothes and colours, or at least the women did.

The woman placed a plate with a stack of pancakes and a pot of tea on the table, and sat down on the other side of the man,_ Edmund_.

"Sorry." Hermia muttered, and suddenly found her glass of orange juice extremely fascinating.

"Happy birthday, did you sleep well?" The woman asked, not even bothering to look at Hermione, instead she concentrated on reaching for some fruit from the table. The woman couldn't care less how Hermione slept, it would seem.

"Thank you. I slept fine." Hermione squirmed in her seat. What was going on? Who were these people, and why did they treat her like a daughter, _a sister_? She had officially entered the twilight zone.

"But you said you had a nightmare." Hermia frowned. If looks could kill right now.

"Is that true, Princess?" Edmund asked, getting rid of his newspaper, his supposed daughter more important at the moment. Hermione nodded a bit panicked. All of this was a big fucking nightmare. But if this was a figment of her imagination, a dream or nightmare, why wasn't she waking then?

"Then why didn't you say so? Then daddy would have done something." He said, consoling her. Ugh, the slightly condescending baby talk was starting to get to her. Her own parents had never babied her; instead they had treated her like an equal, even from an early age. It was a blessing as well as a curse.

"I was just a bit out of it, nothing to worry about, _daddy_." The words felt foreign on her tongue, but Edmund looked reassured once she said daddy. She could hear the woman snorting and wondered what the hell her problem was.

"Would it help if you had an early birthday present? Before the guests arrive tonight?" He offered, clearly wanting to cheer her up. Damn, what was he? Wonder Dad? She could see the blonde woman shoot her a glare.

"Oh. I can wait, I'm a big girl, remember? But thank you." She said politely.

"That you are. Hermia darling, are you ready for today?" He turned his attention to Hermia, when he was sure Hermione was okay.

"Excuse me, can you please pass me the pancakes?" Hermione dared to ask the unsmiling woman, who sat directly across from her, hard brown eyes looking at Hermione. She clearly didn't appreciate Hermione's detached tone of voice, even if Hermione thought she was the epitome of politeness and manners.

"Is this how it's going to be? Are you going to act like you did nothing wrong?" She spat, eyes ablaze. Now that confused Hermione, and she could feel herself become more and more panicked by the second.

"Please, Eleanor, we discussed this already. Not on her birthday." Edmund said, disapproving of her tone. Demanding green eyes met cold brown in a heated stare, both fighting for dominance.

"Will you stop this charade, Edmund! It's all her fault. It's her fault we had to move to this god-awful town. I can't even show my face around the club anymore! Do you know how that feels? How humiliating it is? To get odd looks because your daughter is such a… such a freak!" She shrieked. Wow, and this woman was supposed to be her mother of sorts? She hadn't seen that one coming. Wait a minute. Freak?

"Enough Eleanor!" He slammed his hands down on the table and stood up, chair scraping along the waxed hardwood floor. Hermione jumped in her seat at the intensity of it, and so did Hermia, by the looks of it. Apparently Edmund didn't take any shite from his bitch of a wife. _Good for you, Edmund._

"I can't deal with this now. I have things to do before our guests arrive." Hermione could see tears in the corner of Eleanor's eyes, and she fled the room after Edmund's outburst.

"I am so sorry, Princess. You know I don't blame you. No matter what your mother says, remember that you are a very special little girl, sorry _big girl_, and nothing she says should affect you. You have a gift, Hermione, something she can't understand." Edmund had turned to Hermione and kneeled in front of her, his large warm hands enveloped hers in a comforting manner. And suddenly it made sense to Hermione. He was talking about her magic. If she wasn't freaked out before, she definitely was now.

"It's okay, daddy." Hermione tried, she needed to get out of here. Now.

"Her behaviour is certainly not okay, Hermione." He cupped her cheek with his right hand, and truly looked sorry for his wife's despicable outburst.

"Hermia, could you take Hermione upstairs? You can help each other get ready." He looked at Hermia and she nodded in confirmation. Breakfast long forgotten; no one seemed to have much of an appetite anymore.

"It's going to be fine Hermione, she won't dare spoil your party tonight. Where would the sense of propriety be in that?" He cracked a smile, and Hermione started to get the feeling that this Eleanor woman, was very strung up on decency and good manners, although her manners in private left much to be desired.

"You're a kind man, daddy." Hermione supplied, and took Hermia's offered hand, Edmund rising from his kneeling position on the floor.

"Why thank you, Princess." Edmund smiled at her and started to remove the plates from the table.

"Come on Hermione." Hermia smiled shyly at her and dragged her towards the bathroom. Hermione wondered if this happened often, as Hermia didn't appear to be shaken by Eleanor's episode, or maybe Hermia just didn't care, after all it was Hermione who had been on the receiving end.

When they got further down the hall near the kitchen, Hermione decided to ask her something that had bothered her for a while. The style of their clothes, the house, something was wrong.

"Hermia, what year is this?" Hermia looked oddly at her.

"1970 of course. You are acting really strange today, you know that?" Hermia still eyed her oddly, and Hermione nearly choked on her spit, when she realized just what Hermia said. The ramifications of that statement, this situation, _oh dear_. What the hell happened to her? She needed to get out. Just out, away from this place, away from prying eyes and worried 'family members'. Her head was spinning, and she felt faint.

"Hermione, are you coming?" Again Hermia pulled at Hermione's arm, to get her to move. They entered the big bathroom and started brushing their teeth, Hermione still in a daze, thoughts flying through her head. Before she had the time to react, she was back at her bedroom again, Hermia digging through her wardrobe to find her some clothes. She threw a dark brown turtleneck blouse and a sleeveless creamy white and brown chequered dress that went to mid thigh, like a typical 70's dress, at her. Afterwards she attacked her dresser in pursuit of a pair of white knee high socks.

Hermione didn't question Hermia's choice of clothes, but waited until Hermia had left the room until she began undressing. This was all weird. She was in 1970? This had to be a mistake, a very cruel joke at her expense. She yanked the socks on and proceeded to put on the rest. Then it hit her. Her magic. By Merlin, she hadn't even checked to see if it was working properly.

"Accio hairbrush!" She had been dabbling in wandless magic since the end of the war, although she could still only do simple spells, but she felt a relief greater than most, when the silver hairbrush came flying through the air and landed in her outstretched palm. Her heart was beating hard and fast.

"Thank Merlin!" She exhaled, and could feel her heartbeat start to slow down to a normal pace again.

She had to get out now. And the need to escape came tumbling.

She bolted from her room and ran straight into Eleanor, who had now changed into a more suitable attire. She stumbled, but composed herself before Hermione had the time to blink.

"Watch where you are going young lady! And don't run inside the house! Do you hear me? Hermione Crawford, get back here this instance!" She berated, but Hermione didn't listen to a word of it. She ran down the hallway and practically flew down the stairs to the foyer, spotting a pair of brown knee-high boots, hopefully in her size, and she could see a white coat peek out from the door to the closet.

She was out the front door before she knew it. Legs running as fast as they would allow her, and she completely neglected to observe the neighbourhood around her. All she had in mind was to get away, and as far as humanly possible. She ran and ran, almost knocking over an old lady in the process, but paid her no mind.

When her body refused to run any longer, she took notice of the distinct change of scenery. She was no longer in the upstanding upper-class neighbourhood she had awoken in. In fact, she was now surrounded by trees and grass. It looked to be a small, albeit poorly held, park. Litter lay strewn near the bushes, empty cans and bottles, even wiped-out bags of crisps lay forgotten on the ground.

Apparently Hermione had entered a normal neighbourhood. Hermione flopped down on the ground, not caring if she dirtied her clothes. Despite it all, today had rather nice weather, uncommonly nice, when one considered the normally wet English weather. She sighed and looked around, it wasn't all that bad, and no one was there, an added bonus.

Now to the problem at hand. Hermione had no idea where she was, _when_ she was, well, Hermia said 1970, but it was highly unlikely. How could she, Hermione Granger, be in 1970? It simply wasn't possible. She had told Harry that numerous times, that it wasn't possible to go back that far, even with a time turner. Then it hit her, square in the face. Harry. Their conversation form the day before came to mind.

_"Hermione." Her attention was on him the second he spoke._

_"Yes, Harry?" Brown eyes looked inquiringly at him, and urged him to continue._

_"If you had the means to change it all, would you?" He looked serious, tired but serious. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and knew something was bothering him. She knew he wasn't sleeping well, if he slept at all these days. Of course she had heard the whispers of the great Harry Potter taking weeks of from work. She knew something was wrong the minute he barged in unannounced through her fireplace, she knew because she knew him, probably better than most. _

_"Change what exactly?" Her eyes narrowed, and she had the sudden feeling that something was very, very wrong. Harry had a tendency to act before thinking, a fact she had come to know over the years. It wasn't just Ron who was prone to idiocy, Harry too but he usually just pulled it off anyway, through sheer dumb luck._

_"I don't know… Everything. Anything. The war? I don't even know what I am asking." He sighed in frustration, a habit as of late. He let his head fall into his hands, and combed his fingers through his hair before looking up at her again. Eyes tired and weary._

_"Whatever it is you are doing, stop it. Time is not to be messed around with, and you know it." She said in a stern voice, but her eyes softened, when she really took in his dishevelled appearance. _

_"It wasn't like that. I just… I don't know. I keep thinking something isn't right. Do you ever get that feeling? Never mind, I just meant, if you had the chance to, would you? I mean, change it all?" He rambled, but somehow she understood what it was he tried to convey. Just like she always did._

It was too much of a coincidence. She knew she should have listened to her gut feeling. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. The bloody prat had gone and done something unbelievable stupid again. She should have known he had something to do with it. But how had he managed it? How had he managed to turn her into an eleven-year-old girl and sent her back to the 70's? And not _just_ sent her back, she seemed to be integrated here. Complete with a new father, mother and sister.

He _had_ spent an abnormal amount of time cooped up at Grimmauld place, and there was the Black library. She knew from experience that the Black library held many Dark Arts texts, but Harry knew not to mess around with such things.

Apparently not. Honestly! Did the boy have to have a twenty-four hour watch guard in case he decided to do something stupid? She was furious, pure murderous rage welled up in her, feelings she hadn't felt in a long time. Trust Harry to bring it out again, even when he wasn't there.

But if this really was happening, if she really was in the 1970's, oh boy. If she hadn't already been sitting, she was sure she would have dropped to the ground from the gravity of it all. She would have to do it all over, possibly kill Voldemort herself. She would meet the marauders. Bloody hell! She was close to hyperventilating at the thought of meeting all those who had already died. Well, technically they hadn't even matured yet, much less died. This was one big mind-fuck!

_Damn you Harry Potter!_ When she got her hands on that prat, she would… would - oh who was she kidding? The next time the two of them would meet Harry would be an infant. He wouldn't even know he had done something wrong. But he would get to grow up with parents. She would make sure of that.

She felt a pang of hurt spread through her. She was all alone. No Harry. No Ron. No Weasleys. No mum and dad. Not even Crookshanks.

Tears started to roll down her cheeks, her vision blurred, when the tears showed no sign of stopping. She brought her knees up to her chest and started sobbing hard. She felt so lost and alone it was horrible.

"Are you okay?" A female voice asked calmly, and the person put a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione turned around to look at a pretty girl with flaming red hair and beautiful green eyes. A concerned look crossed her features, when she took in Hermione's tear strained face, fresh tears still coming.

"Oh, I'm fine." Hermione began, not really wanting to talk to anyone. Hermione spied a greasy haired boy standing a few metres behind the kind girl, looking sour and annoyed by Hermione's presence. He looked oddly familiar, though, but Hermione paid him no mind and focused instead on the girl holding her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"You don't look fine." The girl countered, clearly not convinced by Hermione's weak lie. Hermione just looked at the girl. There was something about her eyes, those deep green orbs… They were as beautiful as Harry's. They looked remarkably like Harry's, now that she thought about it.

"I'm Lily Evans, and this," She pointed in the direction of the boy. "Is Severus Snape, but you can just call him Sev." She smiled at Hermione and offered a gloved hand to help her stand. Talk about a birthday surprise.

"Lily! Only you can call me that!" Severus protested.

Hermione was sure her eyes looked as wide and big as a doe's at that moment. Talk about a deer getting caught in the headlights. Nothing could have prepared her for this. One thing was to sit and theorize about it all, but it was something else entirely, to actually be right about it and experience it. Sometimes she hated being right all the time.

She took Lily's hand and brushed off any remaining dirt from her clothes, and looked at Lily again.

"Hermione G-Crawford." She remembered last minute what Eleanor had called her in the hallway. It probably wouldn't do to say Granger, when she wasn't a Granger anymore. Now that was a strange thought.

She wiped away her tears, and thought of how to deal with this situation. Lucky they were both magical, which would make it so much easier.

"Hello Hermione, nice to meet you." Lily smiled at her, and nudged an elbow at Severus, who had come to stand beside her. "Be nice, Sev." She ordered, though not unkindly.

"Hullo." Came his gruff voice, not liking it one minute. Honestly, what had she ever done to him? Technically, this was the first time they met, so why the obvious dislike? Should it really surprise her, though? Severus Snape hated her before, so why not now?

"So, what brings you here?" Lily asked politely. _Time to act, Hermione, _she mentally reminded herself.

"I had a row with my mother, and it didn't end well, so… so I just took off." She figured it would be the best way to go about it all. Lily nodded, almost knowingly, and Severus snorted.

"So you just ran off like some spoiled little girl, because of a disagreement." He said. She realized she must have looked like a spoiled little princess. It made sense when she took in his shabby mismatched choice of clothes. So he was jealous. She remembered everything Harry had told her about Snape, from how he had loved Lily, till where he had lived and so on.

Oh.

Time to take a different approach then.

"Sev!" Lily cried in outrage, and he had the decency to look sorry, when she used her scolding tone.

"It wasn't like that at all." Hermione mumbled and paused for effect. "My mother… She doesn't like me very much. She thinks I'm a freak, something she never fails to remind me." Hermione looked down, trying to look forlorn and out of place, which was something she really was. And the Oscar goes to…

"I'm sure it can't be that bad…" Lily tried, but once she got a good look at Hermione's face she quickly changed her mind.

"It is that bad. My mother doesn't like what I am, _what I can do_…" She finished, almost glad to have Eleanor to pin all her frustration on. Lily and Severus looked oddly at each other, unspoken words seemed to flow between them, a sign of their close friendship.

"Like what?" Lily asked uncertain. At least Severus appeared to be sorry for his earlier assumptions.

"I make strange things happen. Like magic. My mother doesn't like it one bit, but daddy says I'm special." She remembered how scared she had been as a child, not knowing what the heck happened around her, when her magic showed itself. She had been so relieved when she got her Hogwarts letter in June. Damn. There was a long time until June.

"Oh! Amazing! We're like that too, right Sev? Sev says I'm a witch, and he's a wizard. And Sev says there's this school, Hogwarts-" Lily gushed on totally unrestrained. It looked like poor 'Sev' was about to pop a vein, when he finally interrupted her.

"Lily! Don't tell her! You don't know if she's lying." Severus snapped. Paranoid much? And from such an early age. Life hadn't been kind to that boy, of that she was certain.

"I can show you, if you don't believe me." Hermione said, mostly to Severus, but before he could answer her, she had already begun working her magic.

She had been annoyed at the litter strewn so carelessly, so what better idea than to clean up a bit? She made the empty cans and bottles, even the empty bags of crisps and sweets wrappings, rise and dance their way towards a black bin, near the exit of the park. The trash formed a line on their way to the bin, and some of the cans did a little jiggle every now and then.

Lily and Severus looked wide-eyed at the display happening before their eyes.

"Satisfied?" Hermione felt smug, it wasn't every day you got one up on Severus Snape. Harry and Ron would have been proud.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Lily had been ecstatic, jumping up and down in joy, at having found a new friend with the same abilities as her. Severus had been stunned by her little display of magic, and had proceeded to welcome her properly, now that he was sure she was a witch. It was odd seeing him all happy and smiling, but she had the feeling he still felt a bit resentful towards her. To him she was a stranger, albeit magical she was still moving in on his turf, and by turf she meant Lily.

He wasn't thrilled that he would be sharing Lily from now on, for that was a given, they would spend a lot of time together in the days to come. The two of them had been best friends for nearly a year and a half now, and Hermione intruded much to his chagrin. But he had opened up to her, relaying tales of magic and Hogwarts to the girls for the remainder of the morning and afternoon. She could see how much he longed for Hogwarts, and she found it wasn't that hard to look surprised and amazed at his words, because the way his eyes would light up when he told them something, was beyond her wildest imagination.

He was so different from the man she had known, but then again, she hadn't really known him, had she?

When their bellies began to rumble at the lack of food, Lily invited both of them home to her place, although Severus declined downtrodden as he had a curfew, and only then did it occur to Hermione that she had no idea where she was or how to get home.

"Lily. I have a bit of a problem." Hermione said wide-eyed and mentally cringed at her own stupidity.

"What is it?" She looked puzzled at Hermione.

"Ugh, I seem to have forgotten my way home. I was so mad when I left and I didn't think to stop and look where I was going." She hadn't felt this stupid since… since, fuck it, she had never felt this stupid.

"Oh. That's understandable, I suppose." She giggled and opened the door to her home. Hermione still looked panicked, honestly, this was probably the worst birthday ever.

"Don't worry Hermione, you can borrow our telephone, then your parents can come pick you up later." Lily smiled at her, but frowned when Hermione still looked panicked.

"I, uh, seem to have forgotten my phone number." Hermione mumbled, and blushed bright red. Had her time with the boys really dimmed her senses and use of cool logic? She hoped not, otherwise she was doomed.

"That is a bit of a problem, come, we'll go ask my dad. He will know what to do." Lily dragged her in and Hermione barely had time to pull off her boots and get her coat off, before Lily had dragged here off again.

"Dad!" Lily called. Hermione could smell something delicious, and it smelled like delicious cookies. The faint trace of baking did nothing to appease Hermione's growing hunger.

"In here Lily flower." He called from the kitchen.

"Come on." Lily said and headed for the open door.

"Hello Lily, and who do we have here?" A nice middle-aged man said standing by the kitchen counter. He looked to be in his early thirties like her new father. He had kind green eyes like Lily and a mob of black hair, which reminded her of Harry's unruly locks. Maybe it hadn't just been from the Potter side of the family. Interesting.

"Hello, I am Hermione Crawford. Nice to meet you." Hermione smiled politely.

"I'm Henry Evans, it's very nice to meet you too." He said and reached for her hand. They shook hands, when Lily decided to blurt it out.

"Dad, Hermione ran away this morning, and she can't find her way home. She doesn't remember her phone number either. Do you think you can help?" Henry frowned, that would prove to be a challenge.

"I see." He said thoughtfully. "Do you remember what the street is called?" He asked, assuming she lived in Cokeworth.

"No, we just moved here, and I haven't been out much. But there were a lot of big houses, really beautiful and old too." She said, using some of the information she gathered this morning.

"Hmm. That sounds like Horaton, it's just outside of Cokeworth. It's a twenty minute walk from here." He took in her appearance and realized she must have come from there.

"And you said you just moved here?" She nodded dutifully. "I think I know where you live then, I have a couple of friends in Horaton, and they mentioned someone new just moved in next to them." He smiled at her, and Hermione looked relieved beyond words.

"Thank M-God." She almost said Merlin in her joyous state of mind.

"Why don't you girls go watch some cartoons? I will make some calls and get your parents to come and pick you up." He said and ushered the girls out of the kitchen.

"Thank you so much, Mr Evans. I didn't know what else to do." Hermione thanked him.

"You're welcome little one, and you can call me Henry." He smiled and turned to leave.

"Dad is it okay if we have some snacks? We haven't eaten lunch yet." Lily asked before he left.

"Of course, just don't tell your mother." They shared a secret smile, and Hermione realized she was a daddy's girl.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It was an hour later when she heard the doorbell ring and heard her father's warm voice in the hallway. It was so odd, thinking of him as her father, but logically that's what he was.

She could hear the men conversing in a light manner, and felt oddly glad they seemed to like each other.

"Hermione! I was so worried! We have been looking for you all day." He scolded, but relieved to see her safe and sound.

"I'm so sorry daddy, I just had to get out. I didn't think when I ran out." She tried to look sorry, she even tried to give him the sad puppy-dog look, and she thought she was in for an out-of-this-world spanking, when something shifted in his expression.

"I know, Princess. But you can't just run away, do you have any idea how worried we've been?" He exhaled, still angry at her disappearance.

"I won't do it again. I promise." She said, and then she tried changing the subject. "Daddy, this is Lily, my new friend!" She indicated to Lily, who looked intently at the two of them.

"Nice to meet you Lily, I'm Edmund. And Hermione, changing the subject won't change anything. We will continue this when we get home." He looked sternly at Hermione, but was glad to see her make new friends.

"Can I offer you anything? A cup of coffee, or tea perhaps?" Henry asked Edmund.

"Coffee sounds good. Never been much of a tea drinker." Edmund said and followed Henry into the kitchen.

"Me neither." Henry laughed.

"You got off easy, had it been me, my dad would have continued his ranting until he had no voice left." Lily giggled, glad Hermione wasn't yelled at too much.

"I think he feels responsible, you know. For my mother. She can be quite cruel, and it bothers him. But I know he isn't done yelling, yet. I don't think he would dare ruin my birthday by being mad, though. I have mother for that." Hermione sighed, and tried to focus on the telly.

"It's your birthday?" Lily asked wide-eyed, and Hermione nodded. "I can't believe you didn't say anything sooner!" She huffed.

"It isn't even that important, it's just a day like any other." Hermione shrugged, not getting what the big deal was.

"Hermione! Of course it's an important thing!" Lily huffed, and that's when Hermione noticed what their fathers were talking about. If she tuned out Lily and the telly, she could hear them just fine.

"Things have been a little rough lately. Hermione is a bit special, and her mother hasn't been very accepting of it. It certainly didn't make things better after the incident last month. We moved to Horaton after that." He explained to Henry, who nodded understandingly.

"When you say special?" Henry inquired, and that's when Hermione decided to intervene. She tugged Lily in the direction of their conversing fathers, abandoning the telly completely. Lily gave her a questioning look, but soon understood her intentions.

"Daddy! Lily makes strange things happen _too_! Isn't that amazing?" Hermione interrupted, emphasizing the 'too' part of the sentence. Lily looked happily at Hermione, glad to have found someone like her, someone of the same sex and someone she believed to be just as ignorant to the ways of the magical world as she.

"Yes dad! Hermione can do cool things like me and Sev." Lily said to her own father, beaming with joy. It would be a good thing to let their fathers know of this discovery, that way her father probably, _hopefully,_ wouldn't be so mad at her tomorrow for running off on her own.

"Really?" Both fathers said in sync, surprised by meeting someone in the same situation.

Yes." Lily said, before remembering. "Hermione! You haven't even seen my room yet!" And then she dragged off Hermione, yet again.

_Oh boy, being eleven would prove to be trying_.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Before Hermione had time to protest it was already nightfall, her party long over and readily tucked into the safe confines of her bed. The party, it had proved to be easy enough to act like Hermione Crawford, a girl she had no real knowledge of, and swore she would search the house tomorrow for clues. She needed to know everything she could, if she had to continue living here. Granted, there was a slim chance she would wake up tomorrow and find herself back home, but she doubted it.

This, whatever this was, seemed permanent. And she had no other choice but to go along with her, because who in their right mind would believe her if she told the truth? No one, that's who.

That night she cried herself to sleep, sad to have no one. But then that was wasn't completely true either; she had a new father who adored her, a sister, something she had never had before, and a spiteful mother. And now she had Lily and Severus too, although that last one would need some time to get used to her.

She was horrified, and even a little annoyed, to find herself eleven years old again, but she supposed stranger things had happened to her over the years.

Wait. No. Stranger things hadn't occurred to her. This was without a doubt the strangest of them all. She blamed Harry.

She turned in her bed and looked at the window, she had no curtains yet, because of the move, and found herself looking at the darkness outside.

Tomorrow she would get her act back together, but for now she allowed herself to grieve everything and everyone she lost.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It turned out to be a permanent situation. Not that she expected anything else really, but it still hurt. She found herself quickly adapting to the ruthless circumstances, excelling at the Muggle School she attended, as she already knew it all by heart. It made her _daddy_ exceedingly proud.

She came to understand the two of them shared a special bond, like Lily and her father. She was daddy's girl, and no one came in the way of that. He protected her against Eleanor, in her mind she couldn't find it in herself to call her mother, and she noticed that while he still loved Hermia, she was often pushed to the side and overlooked.

Hermia was great, but at times a royal pain in the arse. She was everything a little sister was supposed to be, but Hermione sensed a great insecurity in her, probably because of constantly being in the shadow of her big sister.

It was weird. Having lived all of her life as an only child at home, to find herself with a little sister who hero-worshipped her. It was kind of amazing, but when Hermia constantly kept asking if they could sleep together, because she didn't like this new house and wanted to be close to Hermione, she found herself trying not to snap at her.

While she adored her little sister, she wasn't about to have her camp out in her room every night. There were boundaries. And it pained her to see that sad look on Hermia's face, when she told her no. But enough was enough.

Eleanor proved to be a challenge. This lady was supposed to be her mother, love her unconditionally and comfort her when she was sad. Instead that horrible woman seemed to despise her, and the feeling was mutual.

It was odd, her real mother had always been accepting of the fact that she was special, both of her parents had. That's why this confused her so much, but in a way she shouldn't be all that surprised. Humans tended to fear what they didn't understand and envy what they didn't have.

But it was such a shock to actually meet a muggle, who disliked magic that much. The Dursleys not included. She had heard stories from other muggleborns, while she was at Hogwarts, some of them regarding less accepting parents.

It was just weird to experience it first-hand, but she comforted herself with the fact that she had the most amazing father, who would read various classics at night before he tucked her in, and would talk intellectually with her when she needed a stimulating conversation. An act, which caused his eyebrows to rise in amusement and pride at having such a smart daughter.

By the end of October she had formed a close friendship with Lily and Severus, and was glad to note Sev didn't act like a complete prat around her anymore.

When Halloween came, Lily got the hilarious idea that they should dress up as witches. So both pair of parents found themselves forced to buy identical witch costumes, consisting of purple robes with silver stars and a tall pointed hat, complete with fake noses and a wand with a silver star at the end of it. She had very nearly burst out laughing, when she saw it. Sev was sick that week, so he had no part in the festivities, but they brought pictures of them in their costumes. He had looked highly amused at their get-up.

By December Hermione was ready to move in over at Lily's place, her _darling _mother spent her spare time trying to annoy Hermione as much as possible, and it certainly didn't help that her father was busy at work. He was a solicitor in London, so he commuted back and forth every day, and she could see it was beginning to take its toll on him, without factoring in the tension at home.

She loved it at the Evans residence, and already saw Lily as a sister, like she had seen Harry as a brother. Rose Evans was almost always baking or cooking something, and looked forward to any visitors Lily and Petunia brought over. Petunia mostly stayed out of her way, but she received a few glares once in a while, when their paths crossed. They were always at Lily's place, it was the only place they weren't harassed. Hermione had brought them over at some point, but her mother had ruined that by insulting her guests, once she figured out that Lily and Sev were like her. Furthermore, she had given Sev a very rude once-over and snorted. They didn't come back there for a very long time.

They avoided going home to Sev, as he had enough problems on his own back there, and she had the feeling he was slightly embarrassed by his home, as it was located in Spinner's End, the less respectable part of the neighbourhood.

Months came and went, and by the end of January both Sev and Lily had turned eleven. It was amazing how fast it all happened, but still Hogwarts couldn't come fast enough.

By May Hermione could feel herself drifting further and further away from Hermia, as Hermione spent all of her time in the company of Lily and Sev. Hermia herself found new friends at their school, but she was still as insecure. She reasoned that there would always be a difference. Hermione was magic and Hermia was not. She still loved Hermia dearly, but she couldn't understand her the way Lily and Sev did. She often wondered if Lily and Petunia felt the same.

When the end of June came Hermione was giddy, she couldn't wait until she received her letter, which would be delivered personally, because she was a muggleborn. At least that hadn't changed. Her being a muggleborn. She had always been proud of that.

Then on Juny 25, a Friday afternoon, the doorbell rang.

Hermione was at the door in a heartbeat. She felt her heart skip a beat. There was a much younger Minerva McGonagall, her face as serious and stern as she remembered, although with fewer wrinkles.

"Hermione Crawford?" She asked.

"Yes. Would you like to come in? My father is in his study." And Hermione had a hard time resisting the urge to drag the poor woman all the way to her father's study.

"Yes, that would be preferable. I have matters to discuss with your parents." She said kindly. Hermione moved to the side and let McGonagall in, closed the door and said, "Follow me."

"Daddy?" She knocked on the door to his study.

"Yes, Princess?" She could hear him get up and before she knew it, he had opened the door.

"There's a woman here to see you." Hermione beamed at him.

"Hello, my name is Minerva McGonagall, _Professor_ McGonagall. And I am here to tell you about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am sure you have noticed things out of the ordinary, in regards to the young Miss Crawford." She said, and rummaged through the pockets of her robes, then pulling out the letter Hermione had been longing for, and handed it to her.

She tore it open and read.

* * *

><p>HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<p>

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_ _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_)

Dear Miss Hermione Crawford,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,  
>Minerva McGonagall<br>Deputy Headmistress.

* * *

><p>The second page followed shortly after.<p>

* * *

><p>HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<p>

UNIFORM  
>First-year students will require:<p>

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
>2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear<br>3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
>4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)<p>

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry nametags

COURSE BOOKS  
>All students should have a copy of each of the following:<p>

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk  
><em>A History of Magic<em> by Bathilda Bagshot  
><em>Magical Theory<em> by Adalbert Waffling  
><em>A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration<em> by Emeric Switch  
><em>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi <em>by Phyllida Spore  
><em>Magical Drafts and Potions<em> by Arsenius Jigger  
><em>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them<em> by Newt Scamander  
><em>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection<em> by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT:

1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
>1 set of glass of crystal phials<br>1 telescope  
>1 set brass scales<p>

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

* * *

><p>.<p>

This was it! The turning point she had waited for. A year, she had been here for almost a year. She had lived as Hermione Crawford for almost a year now. Where did time go? No matter, she was going to Hogwarts soon, and September 1 couldn't come fast enough.

"I'm a witch, daddy! Just like Sev said." Hermione gushed on. She was ecstatic, and nothing could ruin her good mood. Not even Eleanor.

"How do I know this isn't some kind of scam?" He ignored Hermione and looked at McGonagall, not entirely convinced.

"I believe a demonstration is in order." McGonagall said and pulled out her wand, she transfigured the coat hanger reserved for guests into a lamp and turned it back to normal once Edmund looked convinced.

"Now that that is done, should we sit and discuss Miss Crawford's future?" McGonagall asked politely.

"Indeed we shall." He nodded and led them into the living room.

It was happening, and she couldn't wait to talk to Lily. They were finally going to Hogwarts.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

AN: Merlin! That was a long chapter. I hope it answered some of the questions you might have had in regards to the prologue. And again I would like to point out that English isn't my main language, so I apologise for any mistakes, as I don't have a beta to do all the dirty work for me.

As for the story, I should probably warn you that the rating will be changed (to M) later on, when all the Sirius/Hermione interaction starts to happen.

And thank you so much to those who reviewed, put it on your favourite story list and so on. It really means a lot to me. :)

Reviews are always welcome, be it _constructive_ criticism, praise or questions.

Love,

M.V. Avery


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